


Red Tide

by stateofintegrity



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:37:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3490259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The journey to Vulcan has lasting effects on both the Captain and his First Officer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Tide

**Red Tide**

“It’s the color of your heartbeat / A rising summer sun / The battle lost or won…” – Neil Peart, “Red Lenses”

As Captain of the _Enterprise_ , James T. Kirk was accorded a few luxuries not enjoyed a yeoman or by a junior engineer. Newly returned from Vulcan, Kirk permitted himself an actual shower. He scrubbed red sand from his scalp; the water at his feet took on the color of blood. His stomach twisted at the sight. _Spock might have died_. The thought was unwelcome and he knew that in the days ahead he would review every decision he had made before they had turned for the Vulcan’s home planet, would remember and question every action, every moment of conversation. _I should have seen something earlier. Done something faster. I saw his damn hands_! A shiver cut through him despite the warm water sluicing over his shoulders and back. He imagined the lean and beautiful Vulcan form gone still, saw McCoy draw a sheet up over the familiar face of his best friend. Kirk knew that his nightmares had just gained a new and very vivid scenario.

He knew that his friend would find it all too human of him, but he wouldn’t be able to break the spell of such dark thoughts until he looked in on him, confirmed that Spock was whole and well and safe. Toweling off, Kirk dressed quickly in casual clothing that never made an appearance outside of his quarters. He would go to Spock as Jim Kirk – not as a commanding officer, and he knew that his friend’s quick mind would register the attire and easily interpret the visual symbol embodied in blue jeans and a faded concert t-shirt Sam had bought for him back in his Academy days when they’d gone to a show together. Hair still damp and heart still over-beating, he rapped at the door to Spock’s chambers. The face that appeared was the same emotionless visage that he’d seen every single day of the last two years, but Kirk couldn’t help but feel that it looked abashed somehow. Uncertain. “Spock. Am I disturbing your meditation?”

“No, Captain.” He gestured for Kirk to come inside. “I… I wanted to go to you, but I was uncertain whether you would welcome the intrusion. I could not be certain of your physical state. Dr. McCoy would not inform me.” McCoy had actually snapped at him to “go find out himself,” but the Vulcan decided to omit his exact words.

One side of Kirk’s mouth lifted. He was pretty “uncertain” himself – shaky, even. And he more than suspected that McCoy’s reticence was predicated on Spock’s response to his return. Having seen the Vulcan give in to his emotions, McCoy would seek to see that ground held. The physician had always believed that Spock was doing himself harm by denying his human half. “I’m alright, Spock. I think so, anyway. I came here because I wanted to thank you. And while I know, now more than ever, how important your culture is to you, please don’t start in on me about Vulcans not requiring thanks.”

With a dancer’s grace, Spock straightened and linked his hands behind his back in a familiar pose. “I will not ‘start in on you,’ as you say, Captain. I will, however, inquire as to the reason for your gratitude so that I may better understand your presence.”

He laughed at that – a harsh, painful sound that seemed directed at his own person. “I’m ‘present’ because I’m your friend, Spock – and I’m thanking you for … for allowing me to be, I suppose. For trusting my offer of friendship. You confided in me – painful information rarely revealed to anyone outside of Vulcan, and I know that you were able to tell me because it was me. Thank you for letting me stand with you, Spock.” They had not been Captain and First Officer in the moment when Spock had finally decided to break his silence.

Spock did not dispute the accuracy of his statement. “You ignored official Starfleet regulations in my name.”

A strange wild pride surged through James Kirk. There was precious little that he would not do in Spock’s name. “You were willing to lose your life to uphold the very honor of those regulations.” As he regarded the Vulcan he couldn’t help but think: _we are doing honor to each other somehow, paying tribute to the best in each of us. We’ve gone into darkness together and returned and now we’re facing each other as survivors. He survived the burning of his blood and I survived **him**_!

But his happiness was clearly not shared by his friend and First Officer. “Jim, I killed you. I took your life.”

Kirk didn’t see it that way. “You fought your way up through the blood fever to protect me, Spock.” _Don’t think for a minute that I didn’t see how difficult it was for you._

The Vulcan nodded. “I held to the sight of your face for as long as I could, Captain.” It had been like straining to see through a red fog or through a rising current the color of spilled Terran blood.

Kirk’s face softened as he remembered his friend’s pain. _I could never be the reason that life left your dark eyes, my friend_. “Can I ask what happened after my death?”

“I am confident that you are capable, Captain.”

Delight burst in upon Jim’s heart at the Vulcan equivalent of a jest; their friendship had survived! “Spock!”

The Vulcan’s posture relaxed; Kirk read in the minor transformation pleasure at their exchange. “Assuming that you speak of T’Pring – her desire was for another. She now has the mate that she would have chosen and I am back in my proper place.”

_At my side,_ Kirk thought. “I don’t understand, Spock.” _And I want to understand. I want to help you_. “How could she possibly reject you? And why involve me?”

No other eyes would have seen it, but Kirk caught the way that Spock drew in a breath, steadied himself. “Your queries may be related to one another, Captain.” Kirk nodded him on and kept himself from asking him to call him Jim. When he was troubled by something, Spock often retreated behind the shield of formality. Spock continued, “Despite my holdings and my accomplishments, there is a stigma attached to my Vulcan-Human heritage. That stigma has given rise to a number of speculations regarding how I might deviate from other ‘normal’ Vulcans. These speculations include the notions that I might be sterile, and that I may have no interest in copulation with women.”

_And to think, just a few hours ago we were hiding behind euphemisms like ‘biology,’ ‘the birds and the bees.’ You’re being so brave, Spock_! “Vulcan rumors?” he asked aloud. “That sounds highly illogical.”

“These rumors were intended to serve a particular end, Captain."

“But what do they have to do with me? I’m not following, Spock.”

A booted foot shifted against the metal deck. “I would prefer not to elaborate, Captain. My words may cause you discomfort.”

He gave his best stern commander face. “I think I can bear up well enough, Spock. I did just endure a false death and the tragic loss of my second best command tunic, after all.”

The Vulcan’s dark eyes were lowered. “The rumors concern us, Captain. T’Pring targeted you because she believed you to be the thing that I cared for the most.”

“She was jealous,” Kirk translated, forcing down something that felt a little too close to a thrill. _He said **believed** , fool_. “She wanted to hurt you.”

“Yes. My choice to bring you to Vulcan with me only confirmed her in such beliefs. But the bond between us is broken now. She is forever gone from my mind.”

Was this a Vulcan confession of loneliness? Was Spock now condemned to an eternal psychic silence, since his folk bonded so young? “I grieve with thee.” Kirk was on such uncertain terrain that the formal words came out almost as a question.

“There is no grief, Captain.”

_But there was joy, when you realized that I was alive_. The memory sent golden waves crashing in on his heart, all warmth and sweetness and the greatest truth that he could never say to the being before his eyes. “Forgive me, Spock. I’m being too human again. I came to comfort you and I end up comforting myself. I should let you rest.”

Spock came forward something less than half of a step; there was no urgency in the motion, but it startled Kirk just the same. And then the Vulcan stopped himself. “As you wish, Captain.”

Kirk felt the touch of his dark eyes long after the door had closed between them.

***

His dream grew up around him in tendrils, solidifying in the dark. A hushed sense of anticipation, of leaning toward, told him that dawn was close, but no amount of blinking would dispel the darkness before that coming hour. _A dream_ , his brain murmured reassuringly. _Though it’s strange to dream of darkness_. Yet, the part of him that knew himself for dreaming failed to hold and he found himself groping for a sense of where he was. He felt along the invisible earth; hot stone warmed his hands. When a warm wind rose, it sent sand lashing against the grey cloth of Starfleet issue pants. Somehow he knew that it would sting if driven into a wound. He also knew that when the sun touched it the sand would be the color of blood.

_I am come back to Vulcan_. He started at the thought; even the cadences of his mental voice felt unfamiliar, as did a sudden heat that began to flash through him, flickering, licking up the sides of his soul as if his inner self had been transformed into flame. _When will I know peace_? he heard himself ask in that unfamiliar voice. “Never,” James Tiberius Kirk heard himself say in a language that he did not speak. “For I have slain my Captain and my friend. My t’hy’la is lost by mine own hand. I will return my life to this red sand and join in death what I feared to claim in life.”

The sun broke over the horizon and he sank into the searing pain of a desire that could never be answered or assuaged.

Kirk woke gasping, desert air still scratching his throat. Over-warm, he struggled out of his blankets as a red light played over his body. _No wonder I was dreaming about Spock’s home_ , he thought. Heat and the color red were two of Vulcan’s primary characteristics. Recognizing the red light as a signal that he had received a personal message while he slept, Kirk batted wildly at the control panel and barked, “Play!”

The sight of the majestic figure of T’pau on his video screen hit him like one of McCoy’s hyposprays. Panic surged through every vein at warp speed, flooded every cell. _What can she want? Had they decided that the koon-ut-kal-if-fee was not properly concluded? Can Spock and I be forced back into combat_? The thought made him shake with chill. Surprise and fear transformed the message into white noise and he was forced to snap, “Restart!” when he came to, voice hoarse with sleep.

The message began with T’pau’s still form, stark against the landscape he had just visited in dream. She stared at him across distance and time and he swore that he could feel the touch of her dark eyes. “Captain, you may have deduced that this form of communication is an unusual one for me. The import of my message dictates that I deliver my message in this way. Spock is of my clan, Captain. Your resolution to stand at his side and to seek his safety was worthy. He has never been easy in Vulcan culture or in that of his mother. However, your friendship may permit him to find his place just as it permitted him to hold to himself even in the fires of our race. It is my purpose here to request that you remember that friendship in the days ahead, Captain Kirk. It may be the force that will define you both. Live long and prosper.”

_Unnecessary_ , he thought at the message's end. _Why would she believe that I needed a formal request from a Vulcan priestess to remain Spock’s friend? Nothing could change that. And how did she know I survived the trial_? Since he was due on the bridge in six minutes, the answer would have to wait. Pushing all thoughts of Vulcan to the back of his mind, he began to resume his role as Captain of the _Enterprise_. Later that day, when the words “I have slain my Captain” came into his mind with an image of red blood soaking into red sand, he shivered.

***

 

James T. Kirk was the kind of Captain who felt at home on his bridge; he often lingered after his shift. This time he was grateful to see the fresh faces of his relief appear. After last night’s strange dreams, he was looking forward to collapsing. The sight of Leonard McCoy outside of his quarters dashed his hopes and he waved the good doctor inside. “What is it, Doctor?”

The physician skipped over the preliminaries. “Would you please intervene with that pet Vulcan of yours?”

Kirk considered offering a retort but concern won out over his desire to put McCoy in his place. “What do you mean, Bones? What’s wrong with Spock?” He almost mentioned T’pau’s message. _Hold to your friendship… Is he still suffering somehow? Some aftereffect of Pon Farr_?

“He won’t let me get close enough to find out! I’ve managed to corner him a few times, but you know how he gets. He might have grown up on a desert world but he can freeze you out, make no mistake. And the readings I did get aren’t anywhere near normal – not even for him.”

Remaining patient throughout the rant, Kirk managed not to let his friend see that he thought he was overreacting. “And what does Spock say?”

“That his mental shields are fractured and that he requires sufficient time to repair them,” McCoy quoted, disbelief evident in every parroted syllable. “Hogwash! He’s hiding, Jim.”

“Oh, doctor, I don’t think your feud has escalated that far. He did just name you friend before the leader of his clan.”

McCoy gave him a look sharp enough to scour the _Enterprise_ ’s hull. “Not from _me_! From what happened to him down there. He just got rejected. Left at the altar, basically. He’s lost his chance for a mate, for a family. Even a full Vulcan would have feelings about that.”

_I knew all that_ , Kirk told himself, _but leave it to Bones to make it all clear. Spock_ … “What do you want me to do?”

“Besides making him appear in sickbay? You’re his friend, Jim. I want you to help him. To grieve with him if he needs it. To comfort him.”

“He said there was no grief,” Kirk murmured to himself.

“He says a lot of nonsense. And you might be the only one in this galaxy and all the rest who cares enough about him to see through it.” He held Kirk’s gaze with his own glacial blue eyes; the Captain saw him soften. “And don’t think for a minute that I don’t know how much.”

_He knows then. Knows and accepts it_. Kirk wanted to question him, to thank him, to ask him why he’d never said anything before.

But then McCoy gave him another look. “Now get going.”

Kirk went.

 

***

 

When he knocked at Spock’s door the motion had a note of urgency. Between the dreams and McCoy, the worry he’d felt before the koon-ut-kal-if-fee had blossomed, its bright tendrils wrapping around his lungs, his brain. The last time Spock had been in trouble, it had almost cost Kirk his best officer and his best friend. _And he didn’t even come to me. Would he come to me this time_?

Eyebrows lifted in a Vulcan approximation of surprise (though Spock would classify it as “interest,” a far less emotional term), Spock studied his unexpected visitor. “Captain?”

“I…” He suddenly had no idea what to say. “Can I come in?”

“Certainly. You are always welcome, Captain.”

_I hope that stays true_ , Kirk thought, heart rate accelerating. How to approach this? Sometimes Spock reminded him of nothing so much as a skittish horse, and he could hardly stroke him on the nose and say “easy, easy,” until he calmed down. And the longer he stayed silent, the more uneasy he would make the Vulcan. “I keep thinking about what happened,” he finally blurted out. “Spock, I can’t believe you were ready to _die_ …”

“You were seeking a solution that would allow us both to survive. I could not assist you, but I trusted you.”

That voice – deep, sure, and precious to the listener – almost made the star captain tremble. “I value that trust,” he managed, voice hoarser than he would have liked. “And thank goodness for McCoy’s quick thinking.”

“I rarely concur with our physician’s methods, Captain, but he has a great store of compassion.”

_He knows that I’m in love with you_. Usually Kirk would have teased the Vulcan for speaking of compassion, but he remembered McCoy’s words.

He was about to offer up his own store of compassion when Spock surprised him by speaking. “I find that I wish to tell you something.” His pale throat flashed as he swallowed. “Jim.”

“You can tell me anything, Spock. You know that.”

“I find myself… uncertain.”

Jim flashed his best smile, the one McCoy scolded him about because it supposedly resulted in injury when it knocked people onto the _Enterprise_ ’s hard decks. “Surely you’re not afraid, my friend? Not with all that Vulcan strength of yours.”

“It has never been my wish to pit my strength against you, Captain.”

_Whoops_. He’d just miss-stepped, hurt the friend he always sought to protect. “I know that, Spock,” he reassured him. “You’re deflecting, you know. A human trait.”

“I have long lived among humans, Jim. With one human I even desire a closer association.” He braced his hand on a nearby desk, visibly sought for strength. “Jim… I wished that it was you standing before me on that dais.” The Vulcan saw shock touch human eyes like a match to oil, saw too much blazing in those dark orbs, and wilted a little under a fierce and sudden wave of regret. “Forgive me, Captain. I should not have spoken. My shields remain… fragmented.”

Strong Terran fingers shot out and wrapped around a thin wrist. “Spock, if this is real… if I don’t misunderstand… then don’t hide behind your shields. Please.”

Fear shone in Spock’s eyes and Kirk knew that his shields must not be grounded if he could see so much. “ _Jim_ …”

They crashed into one another, Kirk’s face buried in the Vulcan’s neck, warm breaths coming hard against his skin. “I would have fought for you if I knew how.”

“You are not lost… you are not lost to me…”

“You’re trembling, my friend.” A memory flashed into his mind. “Your hands – they were trembling before we made it to Vulcan. They shook because you wanted…?”

“You, Jim. You were the bondmate I wanted. I had to restrain myself to prevent making you my own.”

It should have frightened him, but he felt instead a bright flare of pride. _Spock wanted me. Spock **wants** me. Spock wants me to be his mate_. He looked up and into the Vulcan’s eyes. “No one’s stopping you now.”

And so, for the first time since they had stood on the red sands of Vulcan, Kirk felt Spock’s touch. They stumbled against each other until Starfleet-issue uniforms yielded to curious, hungering fingers, and then they were sinking into blankets, rugs, and coverlets that Kirk had hijacked with a flick of his wrist. Neither man had the patience to walk the seven steps to the bed. They held each other in the crimson light of the Vulcan’s over-warm chambers, urgency dimmed by a love that was greater than either the captain or the science officer could have imagined. More dazzling still was the knowledge that such great love was returned. T

heir knowledge of one another deepened as _Enterprise_ cruised through stars that had not yet been named. They began with bodies, questing fingers learning every contour and each scar. When Spock’s fingers lingered on the still-healing damage on the captain’s chest, Kirk smiled kissed him right out of remorse. When their bodies glowed with touch, Spock joined them mind to mind in a union that was so fierce and bright and total that Kirk thought he might die from joy.

The firepot had burned down and one shift was passing into another when Spock murmured, “I wish we could have stayed.”

“Stayed where?” Kirk’s mind was busy trying to find the proper adjective for the lock of hair that he was rubbing between his thumb and forefinger. He had always wanted to touch Spock’s hair.

“On Vulcan,” Spock elaborated. “My estates are quite beautiful. I would have given you that beauty as a gift.”

“I only need you,” returned Kirk. “But it would be nice to make some beautiful memories there to replace the trial, the combat,”

“The dying,” Spock finished for him. “I grieved so for thee that pon farr left me. I knew only emptiness and loss. The red tide of my need rolled back and my vision cleared, revealing my crime.”

Golden eyes held dark ones for a long moment; Kirk was close enough that he imagined that he could hear the Vulcan’s rapid heartbeat. “Spock, getting to see you like this, with no barriers between us, getting to touch you and to hold you – you should believe me when I tell you that it was worth the loss of my life.”

Uncertainty flickered in the depths of Spock’s eyes.

“But,” Kirk went on, “I’m glad that my end proved temporary, too. I would die for the _Enterprise_ and for her crew, Spock, but I would much rather live for you.” The Vulcan’s long, pale neck bent in acceptance and Kirk knew that he was honored by his words. “Now come here, and let me make you forget these last few days.” Spock went willingly, comforted by the knowledge that the next time the red tide was kindled in his blood, Kirk’s arms would reach out to enfold him.


End file.
